Sir Talks A Lot

        The other day I decided to take some much-needed me-time. I.e., I nixed the pants, threw on some more favorable leggings, a sweatshirt that was two sizes too big and I moseyed my way over to the nearest coffee shop. I sat in the corner next to the cozy brick wall and began to people watch —err study my history textbook. Almost immediately I noticed a tall, thin man with a barely-there mustache and black hair in a short ponytail sitting low at the nape of his neck. At first, I couldn’t really make out what appeared to be a heated discussion with the barista. The curiosity was killing me, as was my need for a hot mocha.

“And that’s the problem I have with religion…all this division of power.” I smiled to myself at the snippet I caught on the way back to my seat after ordering. The all too fabulous barista behind the counter was in for a pretty long night. I slowly closed my textbook and began to observe. There was no way 17^th century Atlantic slave trade would be more entertaining than this.

I heard the barista ask, “What do you do?” A simple question. Probably something she’s asked a lot of people who are not of the grab-n-go variety.

 “What do I do? Hm. That’s a good question. What do I do. Do we ever really know?” He then proceeded to give a long-winded explanation of what I assume to be his philosophy about life and ambition. The more he explained, the less she listened. 

I then looked around the room and noticed that besides a seated middle-aged man with over sized headphones, I was the only other person in there. That’s when I got to thinking. Sir Talks A Lot had a mere audience of one: himself. It was pretty obvious. No eye contact, no responses, no attention. I asked myself, how many people out there in the world, speak to simply hear themselves talk? To hear the sound of their voices? Is he arrogant? Is he pretentious? Or perhaps, he, like many of us, is simply trying to organize his own thoughts. Some do so through art, some through writing (ahem), and maybe others through conversation…even if that conversation is between him and himself. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe no one had time to listen to him when he was younger, so he figured he’d dump all of his ideas onto someone who had nothing else to listen to but the sound of an old-fashioned espresso machine.

             

After he had finally caught on that the café was closing for the night, he saluted the barista and was on his way. The barista turned to me, gave a dramatic sigh and confessed, “I thought he’d NEVER leave…I’ve never seen him here before, but every night there’s always someone…”

I’m still not sure if he should be pitied for being lonely, judged for being pretentious, or admired for speaking up when so many of us would rather stay quiet. Maybe someone should just write about him and call it a day.

            I cracked a comforting smile, trying to sympathize with her. I told her I admired her for keeping her cool when she was really brewing a nice hot pot of dark roast with room for annoyance. I thanked her for my coffee, packed up my bags and told her I’d blog about it.

Girl, this one’s for you.

Xoxo

Ale

Care for a refreshment?

Ah, Spring.

(Insert elongated sighs here)

The time of bright pastels, brand new scents, and bustling ideas. The trees slowly thaw off the past and prepare themselves for the comforting warmth of what's to come. We trade in our boots for flats and our earmuffs for sunglasses; boys trade in their pullovers for those hard-to-resist colorful polos. How is this not considered the most wonderful time of the year?

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve started thinking more and more about this beautiful season. Spring break has only just ended. As I was finally getting myself to unpack (3 days after I had gotten back home of course), I couldn’t help but think about just how important the transitory period of spring is. It’s like a bedazzled link between the charm of winter and the charm of summer. On one end, you are introduced to the hotter weather, lazier afternoons, and the carefree-ness of it all. On the other hand, you are reminded of just how much you really need to get on those resolutions you made back in January. At least, that’s the case for me.

Upon coming back, motivation came knocking on my dorm-room door. Over the break I thought of how great the bikini I was carefully tying on would look with a tougher work out in preparation for summer. I thought of how I wanted to take up meditation, how I wanted to take the dreams I think about and make them bloom like the tulips I wish I had next to my residence hall.  In a way, spring is a refresher. It brings back the memories of the cold as it paves the way for the warm, summer heat. Many come back complaining about how short the break actually was—admit it, it's true. One week is simply not enough to attain that long-lasting tan you wanted or get through that long list of high school friends you were hoping to meet up with. However, this one week was enough for me to reflect and rejuvenate. It made me rethink my lifestyle choices as I carved out new goals for the remainder of the semester. It jogged my brain for thoughts of what do I really want and how exactly am I going to get there? It makes you rethink that triple-shot mocha, the morning laziness, and the constant procrastination and it reminds you that you actually have things on the to-do list in need of crossing out. You have a clearer and closer end-goal in mind. You have a better image now that you’ve gotten a taste for vacation, new found refreshment for the upcoming weeks, and if you’re lucky, a sense of hope that those far-off goals are really just achievements-to-be in need of shedding their thick, winter layer.

Happy shedding, everyone!

Ale